


Breakfast Time

by hardboiledbaby



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Chinese Translation Available, Community: watsons_woes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardboiledbaby/pseuds/hardboiledbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Watsons_Woes 2014 July Writing Prompts Challenge, prompt #22 - **A Seussian Situation: Incorporate Dr Seuss or one of his works somehow in today's entry.** A little cracky? Yeah.
> 
> **ETA:** Now with [Chinese translation](http://www.movietvslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=129640&page=1&extra=#pid2449271) by [**shawnordaisy**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shawnordaisy)!

"What the hell? Sherlock!" 

Sherlock, who was lying prone on the sofa with his eyes closed, took note that: one, John's voice was coming from the direction of the kitchen; two, that said voice was equal parts aghast and annoyed; and three, John had several moments previously opened and closed the refrigerator door. Sherlock stole a quick glance at his watch. 6:15 am. 

_Ah._ Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin and closed his eyes again.

"Sherlock!" John was decidedly more annoyed than aghast now, and there was a distinct 'this will not bode well for you' stridency to his tone. It was remarkable, really, how John could infuse so much nuance of meaning into just the one word.

Sherlock waited calmly. There was no need to do otherwise; the mountain would come to Muhammad, after all.

Four seconds later, a hard metallic clang reverberated through the flat. The sound of footsteps ( _stomping; really, John?_ ) came into the living room. Deep, put-upon huffs emanated from somewhere above his head.

"Sherlock." 

Sherlock lifted the lid of one eye ever so slightly. John was standing there in all his sleep-rumpled and bed-headed glory, jaw clenched in that stoic I-survived-Afghanistan-I-can-survive-you expression that Sherlock secretly found rather endearing. He was obviously trying for calm, but the effort was costing him something. Too bad he hadn't made coffee before starting—

"What. Did you do. To the eggs?" 

John thrust a glass bowl in Sherlock's face. Sherlock lowered his hands, cocked his head, and opened his other eye. There were three raw eggs swirling around the bowl and they were—

"They're green," John said grimly. "Why are the eggs green?"

Indeed, they were rather verdant. Excellent.

"Anthocyanin," Sherlock said, "A water-soluble vacuolar pigment that varies in colour depending on the pH of the medium. As the egg whites are slightly basic, the anthocyanin alters the molecular structure so as to appear green." He paused then added (unnecessarily, he thought), "It was an experiment."

"But for God's sake, why? And how did you even get it inside? The shells weren't cracked—" John stopped and took a breath. "No, you know what? I don't even want to know. Just tell me, did you experiment with _all_ the eggs?"

"Well, of course. But they're perfectly edible, John." Sherlock said, resuming his previous pose. "I don't see what the fuss is all about."

"I do not like green eggs and ham," John sing-songed.

"What?" Sherlock opened his eyes so he could narrow them at John. "What's this about ham? I'll have you know I didn't touch the rashers."

"Don't you know—" John stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Never mind. Something you probably deleted from your hard drive a long time ago." He looked at the lime-green eggs with distaste but a certain amount of resignation. "Are you sure they're alright to eat?"

"Yes, John," Sherlock said in an oh-god-why-must-I-repeat-myself tone, "Perfectly edible."

"Fine," John snapped. "Bloody green eggs." Muttering, he stalked back into the kitchen. 

Under the cover of clattering pans and the kettle (finally) being filled, Sherlock murmured,

"You do not like them. So you say. Try them! Try them! And you may."

He smiled to himself. There were some things in life one simply could not delete.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the io9 article, [Use chemistry to make literal green eggs (the ham is up to you)](http://io9.com/5935232/use-chemistry-to-make-literal-green-eggs-the-ham-is-up-to-you).


End file.
